


Rebirth

by pickledragon



Category: The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Apollo (Percy Jackson) Tries To Be A Better Person, Character Study, Epilogue, Gen, In which i overturn the greek pantheon and basically go wild, POV First Person, Post-The Tower of Nero (Trials of Apollo)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:15:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27788101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pickledragon/pseuds/pickledragon
Summary: "You're making yourself into a new creature, Apollo. And I, for one, can'twaitto find out what you become."Your ending for a beginning, your kingdom for a second chance. Apollo's fall into chaos, and what comes after.(Canon divergence from the end of Tower of Nero)
Relationships: Apollo & Artemis (Percy Jackson), Apollo & Meg McCaffrey
Comments: 10
Kudos: 101





	Rebirth

**Author's Note:**

> with heavy inspiration both from my own brain, and from the excellent meta ["We Are Friends Now"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27778300).
> 
> dedicated to the anon on my other TOA fic, who suggested a fic where Apollo dissolves into chaos. i mighttttt have taken the concept on a joyride 😉

There are worse things in life than clinging to a ledge at the edge of Chaos, I think. Watching those you love sacrifice themselves for one, for another, maybe breaking a promise you intended to keep. Listening to whatever happened to music in the early 2000s. But at least this doesn't even feel like failure - it's victory, in technical terms. Python has already slid into the darkness below, dissolved into nothingness - New York City is safe, and so are my demigod friends. I'm the only loose thread, and I never thought that would be the best feeling in the world. 

I knew when I walked into the cavern of Delphi that I might not make it out alive. There's not even fear anymore, just exhaustion and flickers of godly power holding my soul together in Tartarus. And regret - for Meg, for Will, for Nico, for everyone I'd met along my journey. Supplementary notes in the world's fullest, most gorgeous chord - one I'd never get to hear again. 

It registers as a dull shock, like taking a step onto the stage and finding emptiness under your feet. I'd spent so long wanting to be a god again, wanting this nightmare to be over. I didn't even notice when I started having so much to lose. It's just a fact now, entwined in my very soul: Apollo, god of music and healing and sunlight - and now someone who doesn't quite know who he'll be without his friends. 

The void tugs, like a particularly insistent crowd at a concert, determined to get to the mosh pit. It takes all my strength not to go along with its pull. It feels almost laughable - the fallen hero, giving up just as his journey ends? But gods, I'm tired. Have I done enough yet? Lasted long enough to make the world a slightly better place for the mortals that love it so much?

I don't know how long I spend hanging there, suspended between death and oblivion. My fingers start to cramp; the cliff face swims in front of me. There might be a voice too faint to identify properly (Artemis?) telling me 'Hold on!' I close my eyes, imagining I can hear Python writing below me.

My fingers slip. My last thought is an apology to Meg. 

I, Apollo, dissolve into the depths.

\-----

The nature of the world is that it is always changing. It has been around for longer than we gods like to admit (and boy do we hate admitting it) and it will likely be around far after western civilization ceases to exist - whether crumbled into bits or absorbed into whatever form the future takes. After all, music existed long before we had letters for notes, and it'll last long beyond our pre-established rhythms.

There are forces more powerful than gods, more ancient than even the oldest pantheons, whose logic not even the wisest men (and trumpet players, those people _can't_ be entirely human) can comprehend. As much as we try to escape it, everything comes back around. 

And that's why it isn't a surprise to the universe (though it certainly is to me) when I don't perish immediately. 

From the moment I'd reached the cliffside, Chaos had started picking at the edge of my essence, tiny bits of godhood fraying into the nothingness. It's everything like young Olympians imagine, listening to bedtime stories about the abyss from which we all came from, and to which we'd all return (it sure beat Dad's other favorite story about his defeat of the Titans.) 

And when I fall the last couple of feet into the void underneath, it all vanishes in a blink - my godhood, my mortal soul, everything. But something's left in the void, a solid steel core that keeps me conscious. Something... and I hesitate to use the word, with how often we gods shift throughout the eons, but it's something fundamental. 

I'm still Apollo. I still have my memories, my mental faculties. And I have no idea what just happened. 

My eyes fly open on instinct, but there's no difference between the insides of my eyelids and the... air? abyss? around me. 

What I can sense, other than the boundless void, is a presence, right next to me. "Now, this is rather curious. I can't say I've ever seen an Olympian retain form down here. Not since the Titans themselves." 

The voice vibrates around me, tenor tinged with curiosity. "No, not quite an Olympian. Something more."

I can't quite bring myself to interrogate that statement, not when it somehow settles neatly into what I know, settles its roots knowingly. "I guess? I- I'm not sure I know what's happening." 

They're the first words I've spoken in the void, and they manifest in front of me, patches of sunlight twinkling without any regard for the darkness everywhere else. They wink out, one by one, but the memory remains, a light afterimage on the retinas that aren't really retinas. 

Chaos blinks. Which, because they're a conceptual void without actual eyes, is mildly offputting. They smile, specks of nothing curving and growing in the darkness. "You're making yourself into a new creature, Apollo. And I, for one, can't _wait_ to find out what you become."

I take those words, comb through the syllables and letters. There's urgency rattling around in the depths of my brain, edges sanded off by the near presence of eternity. 

"Then, what should I do? I, uh." I take a deep breath, pulling not-air into nonexistent lungs. "I didn't think I'd get this far. I have things- people I need to get back to, if I can." 

The void laughs again, something quiet and kindly curious, as if the emotion is something new that they're trying out. "I daresay that you'd know better than I, Apollo. You're going to cause quite a stir up there, but the best things always do. "

I nod, as if pulled by an instinct older than godhood itself. I close my eyes, and pull myself back into the light.

\-----

I wash up, gasping on the banks of the Hudson, soaking wet and shivering.  
I open my eyes, the side of my face pressed to startlingly green grass on the lawn of Mount Olympus.

Both of these things are true at the same time.

**Author's Note:**

> hoping to finish before the end of the year 👀
> 
> thank you for reading! comments make my life <3  
> Find me at pickledragon.tumblr.com or instagram.com/_pickle_dragon


End file.
